Coffee High (Will Only Get You So Far)
by SarcasmMyAntidrug
Summary: Derek's day has been going... suspiciously well. And he's 99.89% sure that Laura is responsible. Which makes absolutely NO sense since it's been her life's mission to make his life a living hell since he was born. aka the fluffy oneshot no one asked for with Barista!Derek and Oblivious!Stiles. Inspired by the coffee-shop chalk-board pic on tumblr, you know the one.


Derek's been having a very… strange day. For one thing, everyone he's served has been _really_ happy. For another, he's been handed about a dozen business cards, all by men, all for different industries. And lastly, Laura has been smirking at him every time he's caught her eye since they opened.

It's suspicious is what it is.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye as he wipes down the cappuccino machine during the afternoon lull, but she isn't acting any different than any other day. If anything, she's being _less_ unbearable than usual. Which really should have been his first clue.

The second should probably have been the abundance of business cards. No way that many men were that desperate to hire a new employee straight from behind a family-owned coffee-shop counter with no more than 2 minutes of interaction between them. Not in this economy.

Any other day, he's sure he would've noticed something more odd was underfoot rather than just Laura acting uncharacteristically decent and an influx of customers of the male-professional variety. In his defense, however, today was not just any other day.

Today, Stiles was here.

Stiles was a regular. And by regular, Derek means he shows up at 8am every morning, orders a cavity-inducing, triple-shot monstrosity of a caffeine beverage, and leaves without a backward glance. Maybe, once or twice a week, Derek'll get a smile thrown his way and a rushed greeting. If he's lucky.

So yeah, in the real world, he knows Stiles on a first-name basis and that's about it. Unfortunately. In his own personal dream-world, on the other hand, it's a completely different story. There, Derek knows the exact location of each and every one of those moles that disappear under his clothes, and has mapped constellations of them with his fingertips countless time. there, he gets lost in whiskey-colored eyes every evening before they're closed off from the world behind a fan of dark lashes that brush a beautiful contrast against sharp, pale, smooth chee-

Laura snorts behind him, startling Derek out of his fantasy-induced haze so suddenly that he drops the handheld milk frother he's been cleaning absently for the past 15 minutes.

"Waxing poetic about your little crush again, Der-bear?" she mocks, arching an eyebrow pointedly in the direction of Stiles' table. Where Stiles is actually _sitting _for once, and has been for the past few hours while he taps away intermittently at his laptop and sips his 3rd or 4th drink of the day.

"I wasn't even _saying_ anything," he gripes back and snags the dented frother off the ground, "Shut up."

Laura grins evilly back at him, knowing she's right. Derek hates her. just a little.

"Y'know, maybe if you'd been paying _actual attention_ to the physical world, you'd notice that he's been sneaking a peek at you every few minutes since he came in," she waves her hand airily in forced nonchalance and Derek feels his ears heat at the mere possibility that she's right. He covertly glances over his shoulder just in time to see Stiles duck his head awkwardly and a blush splotch across his cheeks.

God that should _not be as attractive as it is._

Laura heaves a sigh of melodramatic proportions and shakes her head on her way to the back room muttering something about 'oblivious' and 'pathetic' and 'getting nowhere' under her breath. Derek's just about to stalk after her to berate her for leaving her post just when his break is about due when a throat clears behind him and he freezes.

He turns stiffly to face Stiles, whose bouncing in place and running jittery hands through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already is. Derek can't decide what to appreciate first; the long fingers that could wrap around _anything_ or the soft strands of hair that he just wants to _pul-_

__"So is that sign outside for real? Or is there some other hella fucking gay and desperately single dude that works here?" Stiles asks, grin pulling the corners of his lips and blush lightly staining his cheeks. Derek stares at him, uncomprehending.

"I'm the only male that works here." he blurts out. The rest of the question doesn't sink in until Stiles' grin has transformed into a goddamn _beam._

_"_Wait, what sign?" he demands at the same time Stiles asks _"_So did you maybe wanna go out sometime?"

They both stare at each other, wide-eyed.

"Oh shit, you didn't know," Stiles murmurs, horrified, his voice cracking in the middle. "I am so sorry dude, I thought you wrote it, and I've been coming in here every day for _weeks_ trying to grow the balls to ask you out even though I wasn't sure if you were gay or single or even remotely interested because you've always got the same _look_ on your _fucking perfect face_ that I just can't get a read on and I pride myself in reading people ok, that is a thing I am relatively good at and here I am babbling on like a complete _idiot _I really am so sorry. I'll stop coming in here if you're uncomfortable, I promise, even though you guys make the best coffee I've ever had in my life and I'll honestly miss it and-"

"I'm interested," Derek cuts him off when Stiles starts to breath more heavily with the unrelenting torrent of words, trying very hard to hide his stupid grin that's threatening to break out any second, "And I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Stiles gapes at him, which only succeeds in bringing Derek's attention down to his mouth.

"I- you- really?!" Stiles hedges, tentatively, blush slowly receding to make way for a genuine smile "That's great!" he exclaims when Derek nods, allowing a hint of his own grin to slip through to the surface.

Stiles fumbles with his phone as he takes it out and hands it over for Derek to enter his number.

"So I'll give you a call and we can go out for drinks sometime this week? If that sounds ok?" Stiles asks as Derek hands him back his phone.

"Drinks sound good. As long as it's not coffee." Derek glances meaningfully from Stiles' trembling fingers to his table where there are a handful of empty coffee cups filling the now unoccupied table. Stiles laughs, bright and delighted.

"Yeah no, that's a good idea," he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, and backing towards the door slowly, never taking his eyes off of Derek until he bumps into the door. "So I'll call you!" he brings one hand up in a quick salute and pushes himself out the door smiling at Derek's nod.

Derek watches him head off down the street through the floor-to-ceiling-windows that line the shop and cocks his head when Stiles stops, just before the building would cut him off from view, and grins hugely. He doesn't have to wait long for an explanation as Stiles holds up the chalk sign-board usually reserved for the days' specials.

Derek stares in disbelief at the hastily-scribbled drawing of what he's assuming is supposed to be him, and the words accompanying it in Laura's unmistakable hand. He's about to shout to the back room for Laura to get out there and explain herself when Stiles, with a mischievous smirk in Derek's direction, very deliberately erases the second point with the sleeve of his hoodie, before replacing the sign on the street and running off. A smile tugs at the corners of Derek's mouth as he goes to serve the customer who just walked in.

So maybe he doesn't hate his sister all that much after all.


End file.
